Zombie Mage (12 page)

* * * *

Veldrigg was stretched out naked on the chamber floor of the holding
area.  Although his face was bloodied and still, his dead eyes appeared to be
fixed on Denlik.  The High Warden shivered with dread.  From the state of the
corpse, it was apparent that incisions had been made in his chest and stomach
area.  Someone had obviously been examining him at some point.

"Why's he returned here?" Warden Philips
asked. "This seems a bit irregular."

"Exactly!" Denlik replied loudly, his voice
echoing throughout the chamber.  "That's exactly my point. None of this
should be happening.  This is an irregularity.  We need to restore balance to
the cosmos."

Warden Philips turned to his side and nudged his
colleague. "Dark Cloak Matick, find some coins for his eyes and some green
thread.  You should know the procedure by now.  Dead eyes are not for seeing
just as a corpse's mouth is not for talking."

The Dark Cloak bowed his head slightly and headed through
the door out of the chamber.

"Look at the state of him," Denlik said.

"Yes, he was rather scruffily dressed this
evening.  I'll see to it that he presents himself better in future."

"No, not him, you fool!  I'm talking about
Veldrigg here."

"Oh, of course.  Pardon me, Revered One."

 "I wonder how many innocents he managed to kill
before reaching this stage?"

"Indeed, but more to the point, how exactly did
he get to this stage?  Don't Walkers normally regenerate with each
passing?"

Denlik tugged his beard thoughtfully, his eyes moving
slowly from the top to the bottom of the corpse's unsightly visage.  "Yes,
normally if they suffer severe trauma.  Look at his head though.  He has a
savage wound there.  I would imagine his brain was damaged, thus ending his
pitiful existence."

Warden Philips leaned closer to the corpse, studying
the wound. "Yes, that's a rather nasty injury. It looks as though somebody
has bashed him with a hammer... The brain, you say?  Is this a weakness we
don't know about?"

"Yes, it's a weakness, but something I've been
studying for quite a while.  I believe in the first instance that the cosmos
latches to the brain.  If it's faulty, such as the afflicted, or not working
like this one then it's no longer a concern and they're often overlooked."

"I see.  That makes sense.  It also explains why
we've lost so many Walkers over time.  The theory does fail in one area though.
Veldrigg returned here but, if his brain is faulty, the cosmos shouldn't have
latched on to him."

 "Perhaps there was one final spark of life
before he returned here? Who knows? The main thing is we can cross another missing
Walker from our list."

Warden Philips licked his lips slowly. "This may
be a blessing in disguise. Should we not just damage the brains of those that
return here?  This would be a fine solution to the madness that plagues
us."

Denlik sighed. "Don't be so brutal, Warden.   We
have a method that works and we'll stick to it for the foreseeable future. 
Don't forget, we now know there's only nine left to find."

"Yes, well, let's hope they don't all refuse to
drink the potion like that fool earlier in the week."

"Oh, Garel?  He was always arrogant. Even in life
he was a miser that everyone despised.  Death just made him worse."

"I took a punch to the nose from him and it
wasn't a pleasant experience."

"What would you prefer, Warden?  A punch to the
nose from Garel or another spot of exchanging magical incantations with Mage
Selthnik?"

Warden Philips grinned. "Without a doubt, another
punch or two from Garel would be preferable.  When you put it like that, it's
an obvious answer."

"Well, with the power of this crystal we may eventually
even be able to locate Mage Selthnik in the physical realm.  I'll take it to my
room and spend some time studying it."

"High Warden, what if my men find him and he
proves hostile? It may be worthwhile considering injuring that big brain of
his.  Would you find this acceptable?"

"No, Warden, if you manage to locate him, let me
know.  I want to deal with him personally."

Warden Philips bowed his head slightly. "As you
wish, Revered One."

"You know," Denlik continued. "I
sometimes wonder if we're to blame for all of this.  We should've acted
sooner.  The least we can do is make it less painful to handle for everyone
involved. I want no more talk about injuring brains.  Our potions will
suffice."

"If you insist but, do remember, there have been
exceptions to this rule.  I know you too well to think otherwise."

Denlik returned his steady gaze to the Warden.
"And that's between you and me.  I'd advise you not to mention this
again."

Dark Cloak Matick returned to the chamber huffing and
panting, obviously wanting to impress his seniors with his speed and dedication
to Chektri.  In his hand he held tightly to a tin of clinking coins and a spindle
of green thread.  Denlik looked him up and down with obvious interest. 
"Yes, you're correct, Warden.  He could do with some clean robes and a
tidy up. See to it."

Warden Philips smiled faintly. "Very well,
Revered One."

More faces stared at Olligh, but this time they were real and not
merely memories or figments of his imagination.  He looked up groggily from his
uncomfortable position on the floor and noticed them all gaping at him with
unsettling interest from behind the bars.  Since his arrival at the asylum, the
residents had taken an obvious interest in their new visitor.  They watched him
with fascination, some with their faces pressed against the bars and their
mouths dropped open.  One of them was even drooling.

"What you all staring at?" Olligh asked,
shaking his fist.  "This isn't a museum or a zoo so clear off!"

Most of the residents took the hint and shuffled away
from the bars but the gaunt looking woman he'd encountered earlier remained
standing by the door.  She watched him with her deep black eyes, a wicked grin
stretched across her face.

"Hey S-s-stinky face!"

Olligh groaned. "Go away, Woman.  Torment someone
else who might enjoy it.  I’m sure there will be at least one sad, demented
individual in the world who would appreciate it."

The woman shrieked with laughter, one hand pointing at
Olligh and the other scratching her ear vigorously.  "I kn-know w-what you
want!"

Olligh rolled his eyes and struggled to his feet.
"Really?  You know what I want, do you?"

The woman stopped scratching her ear and gaped at
Olligh; her tongue flopped out to one side. She nodded her head
enthusiastically.

"Very well.  Stick your head through the bars and
I'll show you exactly what I want.  My hands firmly planted around your neck would
be good for starters, and it won’t be pleasant!"

The woman burst out laughing again, spraying Olligh
with spittle.  "Silly, S-stinky face!"

Olligh was just about to make a sarcastic retort when
she reached inside through the bars and opened her hand to reveal a small
bronze key.  He couldn't believe what he was seeing.  He grinned broadly.

"You little beauty. Is that what I think it
is?"

The woman nodded enthusiastically and handed the key
to him. Olligh grabbed it and quickly inserted it into the lock.  Twisting it
slightly, he heard a welcoming clunk and the door swung inwards.

"I'm sorry for shouting at you," Olligh
said, "and, Erm... you're obviously more intelligent than first
impressions portray."

"Thanks, S-stinky face."  She grinned
toothily.

Olligh brushed past her and made his way towards the
corridor.  He wanted to re-visit his tower and, if his memory didn’t fail him, he
knew it could be accessed from the first floor landing.  He also hoped to bump
into Bakkus on the way as he now remembered the incantation that he needed to
teach him a well deserved lesson in manners.  As he reached the bottom of the
stairs, he noticed the woman following him.  "Shoo! You can't follow
me."

"Can!" she replied.

"No, no.  It's too dangerous – please go
back."

"No, y-you nice."

"Look, I'm married. It would never work out. 
Besides, our children would look horrific.  With my skin condition and your
smile, it doesn't leave a lot to be desired."

The woman reluctantly sat on the wooden floor and
lowered her head.

"Hey, cheer up. I know a barber in Ekelton
village who may be interested in a relationship.  He even has his own
business.  Never give up hope."

Olligh continued up the stairs and reached the
landing.  To his left, he noticed a splintered green door hanging off from one
of its hinges.  He recognised the door - it was the way to his tower...  the
way to his laboratory.  At this point, memories came flooding back. 

Rats.  Lots of them.  Olligh grabbed one from a wooden
box and bashed it on the table top, just to make sure it was dead.  He then
sliced it open with his knife, taking care to not damage any of the vital
organs.  Someone wearing a hooded robe stood by his side, holding a live rat. 
It struggled to escape, scratching and squealing, but was held firmly.

 "It's not doing too badly for a dead rat, is
it?" the man asked.

Olligh was about to reply when the rat suddenly
vanished from sight.

"Would you look at that?" continued the man.
"Truly remarkable."

"Impressive," Olligh agreed, feeling the
table where the rat last stood.

The visualisation stopped as abruptly as it came,
teasing him with only a slight insight but Olligh now remembered quite clearly
what he was doing in the tower.  He was trying to revive rats. He was
attempting to bring them back from the dead.

* * * *

The door opened with a loud squeak.  At this point, Olligh noticed the
lock was also damaged.  Inside the first room, furniture was broken and the
floor was littered with debris.  Thieves had obviously forced the door open and
ransacked his tower at some point.  He frowned and kicked a wooden box out of
the way, angry that someone had not only interfered with his house but also his
tower.  He noticed some ladders leading up to the next floor so he grabbed a
rung and began the climb.  At the top, he discovered a similarly ran-sacked
room.  The table he used for dissecting the rats stood here but now it was layered
with only dust and cobwebs.  Beneath it, a box of surgical instruments was left
broken on the floor; its contents were scattered amongst the dirt and debris.
Olligh remembered keeping his tomes of knowledge in this room on a shelf near
the table.  Hunting in the corner amongst the broken furniture, he found some
broken bottles containing what resembled dissected rat parts but the tomes were
missing.

"Drat," Olligh grumbled, taking one last
look beneath some empty drawers.  He knew the tomes were of major importance. 
All his research into reviving the dead, along with details of the incantations
he'd discovered were listed in them.  More importantly, if they weren't here,
someone else must have them in their possession and were more than likely using
them for their own gain.

For a while, Olligh searched both rooms thoroughly to
no avail.  Eventually, he gave up and sat on an overturned box, staring glumly
at the floor.  As he sat pondering the situation, a sudden thought struck him. 
There was another floor in the tower - the ground floor. He remembered it was a
storage area for all his archived work.  Kneeling, he eventually found what he
was looking for underneath an old, dusty rug; it was a trap door. Olligh
grabbed the handle and tugged it open.  Some ladders, secured to metal hooks,
led down into darkness.  Without hesitation, he climbed over the edge and
descended into the gloom.  At the bottom he felt around to his left and uttered
some words of power – 

Slarvano Zoldack!

A small flame shot from his fingers and instantly lit
a candle in a holder on the wall, providing a warm glow to the otherwise dreary
surroundings.  Olligh smirked, glad to discover his memory was improving. 
Glancing around the room, it appeared untouched by the thieves who'd ransacked
the rest of the tower.  A small wooden table and chair stood to his right and
piles of boxes, filled to the brim with books and scrolls, were to his left. 
Olligh lit another candle on the table and slowly made his way through the
boxes, sifting through the paperwork.  If he discovered his tomes of knowledge
he knew he'd also find more information about his past and hopefully shed some
more information about his strange affliction. 

For hours, he spent reading about his research into
the cosmos and death.  Years worth of work were stored in the boxes and Olligh
realised just how important his research had been to him.  He flicked through
pages containing detailed diagrams of dissected rats and charts focusing on
various aspects of the arcane, including the points of energy which influence
the cosmos.  As he studied one of the more recent research tomes, he noticed an
interesting conclusion:-